


still get my heart racing

by jemmaswan



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Bickering, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Kid Fic, Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 04:41:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15259662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jemmaswan/pseuds/jemmaswan
Summary: “Are we in the clear?” she asks.“Yep, out like a light.” Fitz grins as she sighs in relief. “Well, for the moment, at least.”“After the day we’ve had? A moment is a moment, nonetheless. I’ll take it.”“I dunno, I can think of a few worse days we've had.”





	still get my heart racing

**Author's Note:**

> eva wanted me to write something with neck kisses, I wanted to write something happy, and the only domestic trope I love more than new parents is exasperated toddler parents because nothing is funnier and cuter than that. so here is both. 
> 
> title is from "never stop" by safetysuit and beta-ing was done by my partner in crime laura <3

Jemma is crouched on all fours beneath the kitchen table, attempting to sweep up the scattered remains of macaroni noodles with her cupped hand rather than the pathetic excuse of a broom tossed aside in frustration, when Fitz makes his entrance known in the kitchen.

 

“That’s a nice angle,” he notes audibly, nodding to the highest point of her body at the moment, from his point of view, being her bum. She’s still facing away from him, but he can feel her rolling her eyes as he chuckles. 

 

“Are we in the clear?” she asks once she has crawled out from under, dropping the soggy bits and pieces she’s gathered into the bin.

 

“Yep, out like a light.” Fitz grins as she sighs in relief. “Well, for the moment, at least.” 

 

Jemma shakes her head, laughing humorlessly, and wets a worn rag at the sink. “After the day we’ve had? A moment is a moment, nonetheless. I’ll take it.”

 

“I dunno, I can think of a few worse days we’ve had.” He elbows her lightly, taking the rag from where she’s extended it and wordlessly starts wiping down the two booster seats stacked side by side in the dining room chairs. Jemma grumbles something about trading the day for one marooned on Maveth, or as a slave to an alien Hitler who probably has not even taken his first breath yet in this timeline, under her breath as she rinses off the plastic divided plates and pint-sized forks from lunch and loading them into the dishwasher.

 

Their day had not been all bad, actually. It was a lovely weather for a slow Saturday morning, so they’d decided to load up the car at eight and take the hour’s drive to the closest zoo to arrive when it opened at nine, with high hopes for an educational and fun-filled day out as a sweet family of four.

 

Except for the many, many factors they had not taken into consideration: such as Oliver choosing to inform them that he’d forgotten a shoe the moment they found a parking spot rather than as soon as they left the driveway, the argument between the two of them over whether or not their son could wear one sneaker and one Mickey Mouse sandal Fitz had found under the passenger seat— _ ”That sandal is from last summer, Fitz! His foot is twice the size now!” _ —the heated drive to the shoe store that was thankfully only ten minutes away, the twin wails in the backseat on account of leaving the zoo that lasted the  _ whole ten minutes _ , or, especially the realization once they finally made it that there was a brand new exhibit that had just opened, meaning everyone in the  _ entirety _ of Scotland had also decided to visit on the very same morning.

 

Once they’d fought through the crowds and intentionally avoided the newest attraction, their adventure out and about had started to run smoother. Jemma and Fitz each carried a backpack stuffed to the zipper with extra clothes, wet wipes, lovies, snacks, juice boxes, hats their three-year-olds would wear for a grand total of five minutes before ripping off, and sunscreen. She covered her children and husband’s faces in sunblock, kissing each of their button noses before sending them off and wrestling the next to stand still for her. With their hands laced together—and their free hands each clasped to a smaller, stickier, chubbier one—the Fitzsimmonses took the zoo by storm. They stopped to wave and blow kisses at each animal, read each informative sign, had a potty break seemingly every fifteen minutes, rode the cheerfully painted animal carousel three times, and even captured a few pictures before the final of the negative factors turned the morning around. 

 

Said factor took the form of a kind older woman, handing out red and yellow balloons to young children as they passed the butterfly enclosure. They nearly refused, knowing no good would come from them, but Alice and Oliver were already reaching their little hands for theirs respectively, and their teeny tiny voices saying  _ thank you! _ without even being prompted just sounded so  _ polite _ , and oh my, what sweet, considerate children they had gifted to the world. They were the living, breathing, toddling evidence of how much they loved each other, and it really made them both remember how lucky—and that was the moment Alice lost her grip on her balloon. Which caused her to scream. Which caused Ollie to scream by association. Which caused them both to scream for the entire hour drive home. 

 

By the time they’d made it back to the cottage, both red-faced and swollen-eyed children had screamed their throats raw, instead wailing and whining their way through lunch at the kitchen table. It was that point at which Fitz declared it was nap time, and swung them onto each hip and carried them up to their bedroom. 

 

He didn’t try to wrangle them out of their day clothes—choosing his battles carefully, smart dad he was—instead taking a warm washcloth from the bathroom to their tiny faces and wiping away the sweat and sunscreen and tears as gently as he could. Ollie nodded off in the midst once he had finally stopped crying, allowing Fitz to carry his worn out son to his big boy bed and drop a kiss onto his head. 

 

Alice clung to him when he returned to her, rubbing her snotty nose on his shirt, before tipping her head into his shoulder. 

 

“Night night, Daddy,” she’d mumbled, despite it only being one in the afternoon, before sleep overtook her too; it had unlocked something inside Fitz that nearly knocked the wind out of him. He held her to him for just a minute longer than necessary, and placing her in her bed as well. 

 

“Night night, Alliecat,” he’d whispered back as softly as possible, the words hitching in his throat.

 

“What are you thinking so intensely about?” Jemma pulls him from his train of thought after the kitchen is deemed good enough for now. She hops onto the marble countertop and smirks at him, folding her arms over her chest.

 

“I was thinking…” he hesitates, before stepping into the space between her knees to drop a kiss on her cheekbone, just as she tilts her head up at him in request, “I was thinking—we should have another one.”

 

That catches her off guard.

 

“Wha—really?” she splutters. “You want another one?  _ Now?” _

 

“Well, why not now?”

 

“I don’t know, should I start a list? Do you want me to include reasons that occurred earlier than just today?” She has an eyebrow quirked in challenge but there’s so much adoration laced through her voice that he can’t help but smile.

 

Ending their final chapter of SHIELD had been a difficult, but necessary decision. Originally, they planned to consult from home once they were able to renovate the shed in the yard into a sustainable lab unit, but when Jemma’s OBGYN confirmed hearing two hummingbird heartbeats instead of just one, much to their surprise, they knew it was time to close the book for good.

 

(And the team was more than understanding, still dropping by when the time permits to put the guest room—and Deke’s designated bedroom—to good use, and bring their honorary niece and nephew toys and books from around the world. Between the influx of pictures and artwork Jemma sends out every week, that is.)

 

And nearly four years later, despite the exhaustion set deep in their bones and the constant state of disarray their cottage is in, they’ve never felt lighter, happier, or healthier. 

 

“C’mon Jem,” he murmurs, kissing the soft skin just below her chin, “we’ve said we wanted more.” 

 

“Yes we did, and we said when the twins are in _ grade school _ , so we won’t be chasing  _ three _ babies around at once.” She tilts her head to give him more room to work with and he moves his lips in a line down her throat, smiling when she releases a pleased hum. “Or four even, sometimes, when you’re tired or under the weather.”

 

Ignoring her last comment, he says, “They’ll be starting preschool in the fall, that’s close enough right?” When he feels her jaw twitch to release her rebuttal, Fitz grazes her pulse point with his teeth. Her eyes fall closed and she steadies herself, twists her fingers into the soft cotton of his blue cardigan that he’s taken to wearing again in their domestic bliss. “And honestly, this house has been chaotic since the moment we brought them here—it’s not going to stop until they’re thirty.”

 

He nips and licks his way down the familiar path to where her neck meets her shoulder, muttering praises against each freckle, stopping to pay special attention to each spot that makes her gasp. Her hands move to card through his hair, tugging harshly at his curls when he sucks at her sternocleidomastoid.

 

“I know— _ ah— _ what you’re trying to do, Fitz.”

 

“‘M not doing anything,” he whispers, “but showing my wife how much l adore her, and reminding her how wonderful our kids are. And why we should make more of them.”

 

“Both of those wonderful kids cried for over an hour after losing a balloon,” Jemma points out, her lips part in a smile and she lets out a sigh of a laugh as the scruff of his beard grazes a ticklish spot. He quickly kisses his way back up her throat, stopping to swipe his tongue against the patch of skin behind her ear that never fails to make her shiver, before shifting and landing his next kiss on her lips.

 

“Yes, and one of them cried because  _ his sister _ lost her balloon while his was fine in his hand,” he nuzzles his nose with hers, bringing his hands up from her hips to cradle her face. “Now tell me that isn’t something special.”

 

“They are particularly special,” she says warmly, leaning into his palm, “and pretty cute. I suppose we’ll have to keep them.”

 

“And?” 

 

“And I suppose we  _ are _ rather good at reproducing.”

 

“It’d be a damn shame to let such a remarkable talent go to waste, right?”

 

He bites his lower lip anxiously, never breaking his gaze.

 

Letting out a sigh, defeated, but not really, Jemma grins mischievously. “One more couldn’t do  _ too _ much harm, could it? At least for now.” She releases a startled moan at the ferocity with which he kisses her next, his tongue grazing the roof of her mouth while he pulls her hips flush close to his at the edge of the countertop. His fingers skim homeward, unbuttoning her shirt from bottom to top with practiced ease; crossing her wrists behind his neck, she sucks his top lip between hers, shivering at the groan he releases in turn. 

 

She yelps in surprise when his hands slip beneath her bum and sweep her off the counter, heaving her out of the kitchen, and she’s familiar enough with the gesture to understand his motives.  _ “Fitz! _ The kids!” she cups her own mouth with her hand to muffle her delighted giggles—still holding herself up to him with her free arm hooked around his neck and her ankles locking behind his waist. 

 

“We wore them out good enough, they should be fine for at  _ least  _ an hour.” He kisses both corners of her smile before capturing her lips again. 

 

“You think this will take an hour?” Jemma teases between fervent kisses. “Mmm, I believe fatherhood has slowed you down, darling.”

 

Fitz huffs in response, carrying her over the threshold as he has done symbolically and kindly throughout the past few years. He kicks the door closed and pins her against it, to free up a hand and flick the lock into place, before rediscovering the sweet sigh she releases when his lips and teeth find their way to her throat again. 

 

-

 

Late in the evening, the credits to a children’s film they’ve seen four hundred and fifty-eight times roll in the dimly lit family room. Fitz is nodding off leaning into the back of the couch, his head against the top of the cushion. Alice is sprawled out across his lap, slack-jawed, head tipping over the crook of his arm, and her tiny feet resting all the way to Jemma’s thigh. Oliver is her opposite in many ways, in this case instead curling in on himself in a tight ball in his slumber, taking up no more room than the small space of his mother’s lap, her arms wrapped securely around him. 

 

After observing the quiet pair for a few seconds, reasoning that a slight movement won’t be enough to wake them, Jemma cranes her neck to press a warm kiss to Fitz’s lips. He blinks back to consciousness instantly, kisses her back quickly, however clumsily. He pulls away after a beat to raise an eyebrow at her in a silent question.

 

“I’m glad we’re doing this again,” she whispers in return so lowly, he sees more than hears it.

 

He smiles sleepily, leaning just barely foreward to kiss her temple. “Me too.”

 

She can tell by his fluttering eyelids, and then by the quiet yawn he lets out, that she’s about to lose him again. Long and thankfully adjusted to the fact that it will not be for good, she bumps her forehead against his shoulder before tilting her own into it. “Love you.”

 

“Love y’too,” he mumbles in one slow breath, and then he’s under.

 

Allowing herself this moment of watching her little family breathe so easily around her without any fear, she inhales the sweet scent of tear-free, lavender shampoo wafting from her son’s damp curls against her neck, before laying her cheek against them and letting her eyes fall shut too.

 

They may have faced far too many years of heartache and bloodshed to consider themselves anywhere remotely close to alright now, but if every rickety step they took along the way lead to giving their daughter and son and whichever comes next the world they oh so deserved to live in, it was all worth it in the end.

 

**Author's Note:**

> throw me some prompts on tumblr, @ jemmaswan!


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